Wrong
by Leia
Summary: [Complete] Mirai timeline. Goku always said that everyone deserves a second chance. Kuririn thinks that perhaps, Numbers 17 and 18 just need one, too, and he confronts them. But he forgets that when assumptions are made, sometimes the consequences are dea


Disclaimer: I don't own DB/Z/GT. If you thought I did, you're strange. 

A/N: Here it is. Another depressing story from the mind of me. This is the second (I think) future-timeline story I've written, this time from Kuririn's POV, and it's not exactly the happiest one I've ever thought up... Just look at the first line! Read the whole thing, while you're at it. 

**Wrong **

Dust. Explosions. Screams. Blood. Tears. Terror. Death. 

Kuririn wrapped his arms around his legs and drew his knees up to his chest. Why? Why had everything gone so wrong, so fast? One minute the birds were singing and parents were taking their children to parks . . . the next, two murderous androids appeared out of nowhere and the world fell to pieces right under everyone's feet. 

"It stinks, doesn't it?" 

Kuririn jumped at the sound of Yamucha's voice, and he glanced over at the scar-faced warrior who had come to sit beside him. Yamucha's expression was haggard, heightened by the unkempt beard that was beginning to grow on his face. Reflexively Kuririn brushed his own chin, feeling stubble prick his fingers. In the week since the androids' arrival, no one had given much thought to trivial things like shaving. 

"Yeah, it stinks all right," Kuririn agreed dully. Indeed, it felt like the life had been drained out of him. First Goku's death from a brand new heart virus, and now this. "It isn't fair." 

"Nothing is fair," Yamucha's voice was choked with emotion. Two days ago he had found the body of Tenshinhan, his best friend, lying next to the lifeless form of a little girl he had tried to save. "We can't even track them," Yamucha continued. "We have to wait until they attack a city before we know where they are. I can't . . . I can't handle this." 

Kuririn rested a comforting hand on Yamucha's shoulder. "I know. I wish we could find them, too." 

"And even when they do attack a city, they're gone before we get there. I feel so powerless just sitting here! Tenshinhan . . ." despite his efforts to be strong, hot tears cascaded down Yamucha's face. "And Pu'ar, even. Why Pu'ar? She was no threat to them!" 

Pu'ar, a small, flying cat, had been Yamucha's constant companion all his life. The day Yamucha had found Tenshinhan, the androids had landed. 

"The dark-haired one blasted Pu'ar to pieces," Yamucha whispered. "And then he laughed . . . he laughed at me! Then the blonde girl waved, and they flew away. Tenshinhan, Chaozu, Pu'ar . . . and they didn't kill me. Why did they leave me to suffer like this?" 

'I don't know," Kuririn replied quietly. "But don't think about dying. Use your anger to fight, that's what Goku would've done." 

Yamucha gave a small, helpless nod. "I know, but I'm not Goku," his face twisted with pain. "Blast that virus, for taking him away just when we needed him." 

"Get some sleep, Yamucha. We're all tired." 

Without speaking, Yamucha left Kuririn's side and stretched out on the floor across the room. A few minutes later, the warrior fell into a troubled sleep. Kuririn glanced around the room at all the sleeping forms. He and his friends were staying in a cave in the mountains by ChiChi's house, since their homes were too obvious targets. They couldn't risk being murdered in their beds before they had a chance to fight. 

Kuririn watched them, a lump growing in his throat. No one knew how many of them would be dead before another week was out. His friends . . . 

Vegeta lay sprawled on the ground, the ever-present scowl creasing his forehead, Bulma sleeping at his side and his infant son on his chest. Kuririn smiled a little as he noticed Vegeta's arm curled protectively around Bulma's shoulders -- Vegeta had become closer to Bulma since the androids came. He'd even become tolerant of Trunks, his son. 

Nearer to Kuririn, Piccolo sat cross-legged, Gohan slumbering peacefully on the Nameksejin's lap. Piccolo was ruffling Gohan's hair absently, smoothing it back off his forehead. What was surprising was that ChiChi was curled up beside them, her head resting on Piccolo's knee. Ever since Goku's death, ChiChi had found solace in her son's mentor. Oddly enough, Piccolo didn't seem to mind her company. 

Piccolo opened one eye and looked at Kuririn, and Kuririn smiled nervously. Piccolo's gaze shifted to Gohan and ChiChi. "Are you laughing?" the Nameksejin demanded, keeping his voice low. 

Kuririn shook his head vehemently. "No, no! Of course not! You've helped Gohan and his mom get through this, and I bet Goku would appreciate that." 

One shoulder lifted in the slightest inclination of a shrug. "Maybe. The best thing I can do for both of them is to kill those damned _jinzouningen_." 

"Yeah. That's all any of us can do," Kuririn pressed a hand to his forehead. "If there was only a way to track them somehow." 

"There isn't," Piccolo replied sharply. "Just face it." 

His angry tone of voice woke ChiChi, and the woman stirred and sat up straight. "Piccolo? Is Gohan all right?" 

"He's fine. No nightmares tonight. You?" 

"I miss Goku," ChiChi bit her knuckles, fighting to keep her composure. "If he were here, he'd be able to stop the androids. I know he would! O, Goku . . ." 

"Listen to me," Piccolo snapped, and ChiChi met his gaze, surprised. "Son is dead. I'm sorry, but that's the way life works, and there's no getting around it. There wasn't anything you, I, or anyone else could've done to save him, and no matter how many tears you shed he isn't coming back." 

ChiChi's dark eyes filled with tears, and she didn't bother to brush them away. Something in Piccolo's expression changed. "Sorry." 

Completely out of the blue, ChiChi flung her arms around Piccolo's waist. Piccolo threw his arm up in the air to avoid getting pinned, and he looked at Kuririn with a panicked expression. Kuririn raised his hands in a helpless gesture. 

"Thanks, Piccolo," ChiChi cried, "Most people don't talk about Goku, and that hurts even worse than if they would. It's easier to accept Goku's death if people would stop denying that it happened." 

Piccolo still looked alarmed, but then slowly, slowly, he lowered his arm to hold ChiChi up in a sitting position as she wept quietly against his side. "I never liked you, you know," ChiChi remarked after a while. "I thought you were taking my baby away from me. But really, you were just doing what Goku would've wanted, and you've helped both Gohan and me get over losing Goku," ChiChi smiled faintly. "Thank you. I'm glad I gave you a second chance." 

Piccolo just grunted, and a few minutes later ChiChi fell asleep, still in the same position. Kuririn grinned at Piccolo, and the Nameksejin's mouth twitched. "You're a nice guy, Pic'," Kuririn settled back against the wall, hands behind his head. 

"Shut up," Piccolo snarled, but Kuririn knew he didn't really mean it. 

Funny how a crisis as horrific as this one brought everyone together in a way that nothing else had been able to do. It was like the group had been given a second chance as friends. 

A second chance. 

Kuririn's eyes snapped open. That was what ChiChi had said about Piccolo . . . Kuririn let his gaze sweep over the occupants of the room, eyes widening as he realized something. 

Yamucha had been a desert bandit, bent on defeating Goku. Kuririn's first goal as a martial arts student had only been to impress girls and gain power. Vegeta and Piccolo had both wanted to kill Goku and destroy the planet. 

Nearly everyone in the room could have had miserable lives -- or, in Piccolo and Vegeta's cases, death -- but Goku had given them each a second chance. 

Vegeta slept peacefully with Bulma and their child. Piccolo sat with his former enemy's wife and son. Two of Earth's most formidable foes, and now they were Kuririn's allies. Who would ever have been able to predict that, when they first posed a threat? 

Kuririn's breath shortened. What if all the androids needed was another chance, as well? If he could somehow convince them that their programing was not their destiny, perhaps any further deaths could be avoided. 

Kuririn got quietly to his feet and started to leave the cave. "What are you doing?" asked Piccolo. 

"I just need some air," Kuririn replied quickly. "I'll be back." 

"Don't do anything stupid." 

"Okay, I won't," Kuririn reached the mouth of the cave and flew into the air. 

He had no idea how long he flew, keeping his eyes and ears open for any sign of the androids. Kuririn still wasn't sure why he was doing this, but something told him he had to. He felt somehow that Goku would have wanted someone to give them the opportunity to change. 

At last Kuririn caught sight of a large explosion coming from a town that had been destroyed a few days earlier. _They're blowing up buildings_, Kuririn realized. 

Chunks of dust and cement whipped Kuririn's body and stung his eyes as he flew inside the radius of the explosion, but he kept going. When the smoke cleared, Kuririn saw the boy android standing on the street, one hand outstretched, and the girl android lounging on the curb. 

"Whee, this is fun," the girl snorted sarcastically. "Come on, #17, this is ridiculous," she swept a lock of straight blonde hair behind one ear. 

_I must be right about them_, Kuririn thought, feeling his face redden as he watched her. _No one that beautiful could be completely evil . . . right?_

"I'm glad you're enjoying yourself," #17 replied in the same tone of voice. "Honestly, #18, you really need to loosen up. Find yourself a boyfriend, or something." 

#18 laughed. "Shut up. You're such an idiot." 

Kuririn decided now was a good time to as any to interrupt, since both androids seemed to be in a relatively good mood. When they weren't out on killing sprees, the two of them acted pretty much like any pair of human siblings. 

Kuririn stepped out into the street and cleared his throat self-consciously. "Uh, excuse me?" 

#18 jumped off the curb and #17 spun around, both clearly startled. #18 raised a hand to power up a blast and Kuririn swallowed in fear -- but suddenly #17 held up a hand. "Wait. Let's see what baldy has to say." 

"Fine." 

Kuririn suddenly got a bad feeling about the whole idea. "Uh, well, I just wanted to ask you guys a question." 

"This is stupid. Can't I kill him?" 

"#18, calm down. What's wrong with you? We can always kill him afterward, remember? It's not like he's a threat." 

Kuririn rubbed the back of his head nervously. "Why . . . why are you two doing this? These innocent people haven't done anything to you." 

"That's an easy one," #17 smirked, leaning against a piece of fallen stone. "We were created by Dr. Gero to destroy Son Goku, but by our information he was dead before we were awakened. So, in repayment for not being able to kill Goku, we're going to kill everyone else." 

"What?" Kuririn's jaw dropped. Created by Dr. Gero? Goku had fought him years ago, and instead of killing him had let him go free. "What about Gero?" 

#17's lips curved up in a malicious grin. "We killed him." 

"But . . . he created you! He gave you life!" 

"And I'm supposed to owe him a debt of gratitude now?" #17's eyes narrowed. "You're starting to annoy me. #18, I presume you want to do the honours?" 

The beautiful but deadly android smiled. "Of course." 

Kuririn threw up his hands. "Wait!" he pleaded. "Just listen to me, please! You don't have to be a slave to your programming; you can step away from that. You can choose your own paths, your own destinies, now that Gero is gone. Don't you see? He doesn't control you anymore. You can live like normal people now -- you can . . . I don't know, do whatever it is you've ever wanted to do. Get married, have a family --" 

"Why would either of us want to marry a human?" #18 sounded like the idea revolted her. 

"I think he has a crush on you," #17 smirked. 

#18 smacked him, and #17 stumbled. #18 regarded Kuririn coldly. "Sorry, but I'm not interested in bald midget-men," she informed him. 

"I do not!" Kuririn yelled. "I just think you two deserve another chance at life. You don't have to be this way!" 

Both androids faced him, and Kuririn felt fear gnawing at his insides. The expressions on their faces were nothing but those of cold-blooded killers now. Kuririn found himself wondering whether or not Goku had been wise in his decision not to kill Gero when he'd had the chance. 

Just then, a voice came from the distance. "Kuririn! What do you think you're doing?" it was Piccolo, flying toward them at top speed. 

An angry look darkened #17's features. "So. This was all just a trick to keep us busy while your pathetic little friends got here, huh?" 

"No! I didn't tell him where I was --" 

#17 ignored him. "Even though it wouldn't've have worked anyway I don't like humans to try to trick me. That gets me angry. #18, would you mind if I joined you?" 

"Not at all," #18 smiled ferally, looking for all the world like a vicious predator. She and #17 each raised a hand. "On three, okay?" 

"One . . ." 

_No_, Kuririn thought desperately_. I can't believe it, but Goku was wrong about letting Gero go._

"Two . . ." 

"Kuririn! Get out of there, now!" 

_Maybe not everyone needs a second chance . . . or wants one. _

"Three!" 

Two bright yellow beams raced toward Kuririn, and his last thought before they hit was, _I was wrong, too_. 

And then, there was nothing . . . 

* * * * * *


End file.
